


It's Not Much Of A Life You're Living (It's Not Just Something You Take – It's Given)

by unoriginalrhombus



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginalrhombus/pseuds/unoriginalrhombus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She doesn't get it, not really, and she doesn't even think it's a gay thing. She thinks it might just be a Santana thing because when Santana's lips tilt to the left, Quinn can't help but gasp in response." AU. Santana and Quinn are in high school, Quinn is a cheerio and lonely, and that's how this story came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Much Of A Life You're Living (It's Not Just Something You Take – It's Given)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is AU. I repeat, AU. Parts of it are canon, but overall it’s just AU because apparently I’m obsessed with these two and how things should and could have gone. Also, I wrote this while drunk (funny, I know) so I apologize for any mistakes. Please read and review and let me know if you all enjoyed it!
> 
> A/N: (DEDICATION) This is to every single person who has favorited, followed, or commented on any one of my stories. You are all beautiful and I love you. Writing these stories has helped me work through things and it’s nice to know that it touches other people too (in a non-weird way).

_Once upon a time, I didn't give a damn. But now here we are. So whataya want from me?_

It’s on days just like this one: where the sun is shining, kids are laughing, school is let out early, and even Sue Sylvester is smiling, that Quinn feels incredibly _alone_.

Sure, she built that reputation for herself. She made sure every person who got even a smidgen close to her heart was dispensable. But being prepared didn’t fend off the loneliness, it didn’t fill the void that ached whenever she wasn’t surrounded by people.

It's not like she intended to be this girl all those years ago. She didn't want to be the girl who was popular _and_ alone. No, this isn't at all what she imagined when she was thirteen and fat. It seems to be her curse though, that she would spend time on both sides of the spectrum and still be the girl who is disliked and unwanted.

It's sad because deep down, Quinn doesn’t believe that she deserves an unhappy ending. It’s sad because she likes old black and white films and she reads poetry, and she loves Lana Del Ray.

It’s sad because on a day like this, the sunshine reminds her of the old fashion romance novels that her mom pretends not to read. It makes her think of falling in love and flowers and all the other sappy things that she tells Santana she doesn't think about.

The thing is, though, that she _does_.

It's why she fought so hard to keep the glee club together, it's why she fought so hard for Beth. It's why she moved in with Mercedes (before her mother conned her into moving back home, with guilt and lies) It's why she kept Santana's secret relationship with Brittany an actual secret.

Of course Quinn isn't without her cruel moments. She’s vain, jealous, frugal, envious, and shallow. But she wasn't born that way, no, she was built into it. There was a time when she was Lucy where she would have been fine with staying normal and making friends, but when you have a whole family that thrives on constantly pointing out how imperfect you are...well, things get jaded.

Just because she was those things didn't mean that she had a black heart, and just because she did good things didn't mean that she had a heart of gold, either. She was an in-between sort-of girl, because that's what this world was full of: in-between people. The world was full of people like her, they were just better at hiding it.

Take Mr. Schue for example: He was married and unhappy when he started Glee Club, but he was so terrified of being alone that he continued to stay married and unhappy. Even when he had started to show an interest in Ms. Pillsbury. Isn't that selfish? Isn't that jaded?

Take Finn Hudson: He didn't love her, no. He loved the idea of her. When they had met freshman year, the first thing Finn had said to her was, "You're pretty _and_ popular." He cheated on her with Rachel Berry of all people and then had the audacity to get upset when Quinn had done the same, only for him to turn around and do the same thing with her. Isn't that fucked up? Isn't that wrong?

These people acted prim and proper but they were truly _foul_. The only difference between them and Quinn was that she had the tendency to be more forward with her anger. She didn't pretend to be a good girl or say nice things, no, she conned and plotted and danced until shit went her way.

So, excuse her for feeling sad that after the past couple of years, these people still couldn't make the honest effort to care for her. No, they still thought she was crazy old Quinn instead of just Quinn and it was aggravating.

She's a senior, she's head cheerio, and she shouldn't be feeling like this. She should have people clawing at her left and right just to get the chance to be her friend. She shouldn't be sitting in the shadows watching her peers run around in the sun. She shouldn't be sitting aside while her mother blew up her phone, drunk and cruel.

Her only saving grace in all of this is Santana because while they're not really friends, they aren't really enemies. They're at a truce, Quinn thinks, because both realize that in a battle neither would come out on top. Quinn likes Santana. Which is funny only because she often says otherwise. What's more is that Quinn _respects_ her. Nobody else at McKinley high could be such an open bitch, fall in love with their best friend, get dumped by their best friend, and turn around to rule the school.

For crying out loud she was a freaking lesbian and she still had more friends than Quinn, how absurd. Still, Quinn had to give the girl props. Santana never pretended to be anything other than what she was and Quinn liked that, almost too much.

Quinn is sitting on the front steps of the school pretending like she has somewhere to go now that Cheerios practice has been canceled, when Santana comes waltzing up, her ponytail and signature smirk in place perfectly. Quinn nodded in approval. Cheerios always maintained their physical appearance. _Always_.

"What's up whale shark?" Santana opened, her legs bending and her ass landing awfully close to Quinn's.

Quinn rolled her eyes, her hands tightening around her binder. "You realize that your nickname doesn't apply to me anymore because I'm not pregnant, right?"

Santana flicked her hand at Quinn dismissively. "Minor detail."

"Really?"

Santana smirked playfully. "Really." She placed her hands behind her and leaned back. "So, why are you sitting here looking like little orphan Annie?"

"You know," Quinn started, her eyes squinting as she looked towards the sun. "The quality of your insults has really taken a tumble since Brittany dumped you."

Santana stills and Quinn prepares for a slap, because every conversation of theirs ends with a slap, but Santana just laughs and leans her head back. "Touché, Fabray. Fucking Touché."

Quinn smiles in response. She really isn't sure if this is friendship or just a carefully played out tune, but she knows that she enjoys it either way.

Santana stretches her legs out in front of her, her sneakers shining in the sun. "You got any plans today, Q?"

Quinn looked down at her phone and watched as her mother’s face flashed on the screen again. "What's it to you?"

Santana smirked, seemingly enjoying Quinn's desire to not give in so easily. "My parents are out of town and I plan on getting my drinks on. I just figured that Little Miss Uptight Quinn might want to loosen up a bit, too."

"I'm not really one for parties." Quinn replied. It was true. Socializing, being fake...she had enough of it during the day, she didn't want to do it during the night as well.

"The only party this is gonna be is a party of two," Santana said. "The last party I threw ended with Puckerman breaking my living room window. Plus..."

Quinn turned her head to Santana, her lips already forming the answer. "Brittany."

Santana smiled sadly. "Yeah, Brittany."

Quinn shoved her phone in her gym bag, tired of trying to live up to expectations and demands that she had never wanted in the first place. The sun was shining and Santana was offering a stem of friendship. Quinn was going to take it and she was going to attempt being a normal, emotionally level individual. She stood up, her hand stretching down towards Santana. "Who's the sad sack now?"

Santana stared at Quinn's hand for a moment before she grabbed it and let Quinn help her up. "Eat shit, Fabray."

Quinn laughed as Santana followed her to her car, her heart light for the first time in a long while.

* * *

 

What started off as an innocent, lonely venture, quickly turned into a regular _thing._

Quinn wanted to ask if this made them friends (usually when she was drunk) but she was afraid of what Santana would say, so instead she stayed silent.

Their gatherings had happened every Friday-Sunday for the past six weeks and it was starting to feel like a routine. It was terrifying because if Quinn had let it become a routine then that meant that she relied on it, and she wasn't really sure if she could handle what would happen when the thing she relied on went away. Just like everything else.

Her mother pretends to be concerned about all the time Quinn is spending away but Quinn knows that it's not concern she has, its control, and it belongs to Russell Fabray. She isn't in the mood to listen to her mother so she just ignores her as often as she can. She's not letting her family take this away from her, not ever.

Because she might actually have a friend.

* * *

 

She's pulling up to Santana's house on the seventh Friday when Santana comes running out of her house in camo pants, a black tank, and war paint smeared all over her face. Quinn puts her car into park and turns off the ignition, her face frowning in confusion. Santana runs to her window and starts pounding frantically, so Quinn opens the driver door, confusion switching to concern. "What's wrong?"

Santana is pointing at her house, at the shed, her eyes scared. "I heard that fucking noise again. I swear to God, Q, something is in there!"

"Is that what all of the camo is for?"

"What?" Santana asks, confused. "Oh, no. This is because I was getting bored waiting for you."

Quinn laughed. "Good to know, you weirdo."

Santana looked affronted. "One: You love me. Two: Fuck you, you bitch."

"You got a girlfriend with that mouth?" Quinn quipped, instantly regretting the sentence as it left her mouth.

Santana grinned, her mouth showing all of her teeth, that's how wide her fucking grin was. "That's precisely how I got a girlfriend. With _this_ mouth."

Quinn punched Santana in the shoulder. "God, don't be crass..." Quinn looked away, Santana's smile too much to bear sometimes, especially now that it was affectionate and directed at _her_. "So what's the plan?"

Santana stepped behind Quinn and gripped her waist. "The plan? The plan is for you to go in there first, looking like she-woman, while I stick close behind in case anyone tries to kill you."

"Wow, who knew you were so brave?"

Santana pinched Quinn's side. "Shut up and go, Fabray. Before I ends you."

"Your threats have less of an effect when you're literally gripping my sides in fear and we haven't even moved yet."

In the end, it takes two falls and Santana hitting her head on a shovel for Quinn to find what the noise is. Santana screams like a little girl when something crashes in the corner and Quinn trudges over, her shoulders tense and her face determined. She shuffles the tools around until she finds the cause of all the ruckus, and she laughs in response.

Quinn bends down and wraps the thing in her hands, her laughter getting louder now. She walks to Santana (who's gripping the spot of her head that she hit), her laughter intense. She shoves the thing under Santana's nose and smirks, her laughter gone for now. "Congratulations, Santana, the creature you're so terrified of is a kitten."

Santana grabs the kitten out of Quinn's hands before Quinn falls to the ground, her body succumbing to laughter. It's the freest she's felt in a really long time and it doesn't phase her that she feels this free with Santana, and Santana only.

* * *

They're back inside and on Santana's bed and Quinn's sides are sore from her constant laughing. Santana is holding the baby kitten and glaring at Quinn every few seconds, her face not amused.

"Oh, Jesus," Quinn says when Santana glares at her for the fifth time since they came inside. "Stop acting so butthurt. I'm allowed to laugh."

"For the record, Q, it could have been anything in my shed. I had the right to be terrified." Santana huffs, her face tinging pink.

Quinn smiled at Santana affectionately. "But it wasn't anything, it was a kitten. So let it go, I get this one."

Santana slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Fine, whatever, who cares."

"So, what do you plan on doing with it?"

Santana looked up from where she was laying, the kitten on her tummy as she held it in place. "I was thinking I would keep it."

"Santana..." Quinn trailed off, concerned.

"Just hear me out, Q. I'd take it to get it's shots and stuff and make sure it's not, like, disgusting, and then I could keep it and we could share it. Kind-of like we were co-parenting or something."

Quinn hesitated. "I don't think my mother would let me get away with letting that thing in the house."

Santana shrugged. "So I keep it here?"

Quinn bit her lip, trying to ignore the pleading look in Santana's eyes. God, it was amazing how far they had come in almost two months. Two months ago Quinn was a selfish girl who was praying for somebody to notice her and now here she was, a selfish girl who would have done anything for Santana as long as she continued to look at her like that.

"Okay." Quinn agreed, her heading nodding with her choice.

Santana grinned, her smile cheeky and her eyes bright. It was enough of a reaction for Quinn to realize that Santana really needed this too, whatever this was. "This little tyke needs a name. How about...Quinntana?"

Quinn grimaced, her face expressing her distaste. "Ew, Santana. That's an awful name for a cat."

"You don't disapprove though?" Santana asked, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "I guess not? I mean, we're pretty fantastic apart, so I suppose we'd just be even more fantastic together." Quinn frowns when she realizes how that sounded. "I meant, like, friends...oh God. You know what I meant."

Santana laughed, letting it go and moving on. "What about Chariot?"

Quinn looked at Santana in disbelief. "No."

"Lightning?"

"No."

"Fluff puff?"

Quinn slapped her hand down on the bed. "For God, sakes, _no._ Those are all ridiculous."

Santana grins and continues on, much to Quinn's dismay. They go on like that for nearly an hour until Quinn gives in, completely exhausted. Santana lifts the kitten in the air and smiles at it. "I think Dog suits you perfectly."

"You're a nightmare." Quinn grumbles, her mind tired and her body relaxed.

"Only in your dreams."

* * *

She goes home on Saturday instead of Sunday because her mother won't stop harassing her and she doesn't want Santana to hear how her mother is still unloving, harsh, and a drunk. She told Santana that her mom was changing because she didn't want pity from her friend and-oh, God, they were friends now, weren't they?

She pushes through the front door, her mind on the photos that are of Dog and Santana and stored in her phone when her mother waltzes out of the living room reeking of booze. That's saying something because it's eleven in the morning and Quinn was nearly fifteen feet away.

Her mother glares and it's enough for Quinn to know that she spoke to Russell again. "Have you been hanging out with that...that... _lesbian_ again?" Her mother asks, making sure to spit out the last part like Santana wasn't worth anything, like Santana wasn't secretly saving her.

Quinn's bottom lip quivered and she stood tall, trying to be strong. "Her name is Santana."

Her mother waves her off, her mouth on her glass as she downs the rest of whatever was in it. "That's not the point, Quinnie. Your father says that it represents the wrong kind of image for Fabray's to associate with the likes of them."

"You mean gay people?" Quinn challenged.

"You know what I mean, Quinnie."

Quinn shook her head. "No, I don't."

Her mother stared at Quinn for a moment, her head tilted to the side before she settled on the one thing that had always worked for her: blatant manipulation. Quinn really had learned from the best. "Is that any way to speak to your mother, Quinnie? I took you back in after your...little hiccup. I pay for the food in your belly, the house over your head, the clothes on your back, the car you're driving...is it too much to ask for you to do this one thing for me?"

Quinn looked at her mother and everything that she was. It hit her then that her mother was nothing like the woman she wanted her to be and sometimes, people _don't_ change. It doesn't mean that Quinn is in the wrong, it just means that her mother was stuck and maybe it was always meant to be this way. "It wasn't a hiccup, _mother._ " Quinn said, her hands gripping the edge of her top in frustration. "It was a pregnancy. A pregnancy that you weren't present for, might I add. If you were a really good mother then you would have been there for me then instead of pretending to be here for me now."

Quinn turned around, her hand grabbing the keys that were still dangling from the front door. She unlocked her car and slipped in, ignoring her mother’s yells as she sped away as quickly as she could. She grabs her phone to dial Santana's number and ask if she could stay there...maybe permanently. It's a huge step for Quinn that she never saw coming.

She could say the same thing about the truck that hit her a few minutes later.

* * *

 

She spends two days in the hospital and when she's released there are scars on her face (the face she worked so hard to get) and images in her mind. She gets a text from Santana and it sounds important, because the girl used way too many exclamation points.

 **Santana:** _Quinn, wtf? Something is wrong!_

 **Quinn:** _With?_

 **Santana:** _Dog. Get over here, quick! I'm worried!_

Quinn rolled her eyes. She'd have a chat with Santana about the proper use of punctuation later, right now she had a drive to make. Or rather, a drive that she had to have Mercedes make.

She honestly is too exhausted to do anything but she knows that her mother fed some lie to everyone about her being out with a headache, so Quinn thinks that she owes Santana this. She owes her this moment of loyalty, she owes her this truth.

She gets out of Mercedes car and waves with her right hand, the unbroken one, and thanks her-because really, she owes her so many thank-you's.

(In the end, she breaks her arm and bruises two ribs, but overall it could have been a lot worse. Heck, she could have ended up in a wheelchair.)

Quinn grimaces as she climbs up Santana's steps and opens the door to her house, because they are way past the knocking stage in their relationship. She climbs the steps slowly and stops-out of breathe-when she reaches Santana's door. She knocks and tries to smile when Santana opens the door quickly, her eyes worried and her hair a mess.

"How's dog?" Quinn asks, limping into the room.

Santana looks at Quinn sadly and shuts her door. She's fiddling with her hands in a way that is so unlike Santana, because Santana has never been the nervous type. She's never been the type to worry, and the clear anxiousness her body is expressing shocks Quinn. "He's fine. I just..."

"What Santana?" Quinn asks, anger starting to bubble in her core over the fact that she basically came all the way over here for _nothing_. There is no emergency, there is no pain. It's just more lies, more secrets, and more manipulation. And she's done. Quinn is done with this push and pull. This isn't healthy, she thinks, any of it.

Nothing prepares her for the moment that Santana leaps forward, her mouth connecting with Quinn's. Quinn doesn't move-not because she doesn't want to, but because she doesn't know _how_ to. She doesn't know how to move in a situation that she actually wants to develop, she doesn't know how to move in a way that won't ruin this.

She doesn't get it, not really, and she doesn't even think it's a gay thing. She thinks it might just be a Santana thing because when Santana's lips tilt to the left, Quinn can't help but gasp in response.

Quinn pulls away first, her mouth matching the ache in her heart, and it _hurts_. God, how everything just hurts sometimes. She's crying before she knows it and Santana's wrapping her arms around her and Quinn just aches in every way. She feels alone, even now, and she doesn't understand it. She doesn't know how to explain to Santana that this isn't a good idea because Quinn isn't a good idea.

Quinn attempts to say something but Santana quickly shushes her. Santana says that it's okay and Quinn believes her because she's lonely, and because she has no reason not to.

* * *

Quinn thinks that they might be in a relationship, if Quinn was into labels or whatever.

Okay, so she's totally into labels, but she's not willing to pressure Santana into putting one on this. For starters, Quinn doesn't even know if she's gay or ready to be a couple in front of the rest of the school. Then there's her mother, the fact that they graduate in six weeks and _Brittany_.

She's a thorn in Quinn's side because she's so fucking pure and happy and lovable that it's impossible for Quinn to hate her. It'd be impossible for Quinn to hate her if she took Santana back.

Sometimes she thinks about what she would become if that happened. She's tried on more than one occasion to bring it up with Santana, but Santana always shushes her with her lips and quiets Quinn's questions with her hands, so it's impossible for Quinn to stay focused. She doesn't like the fact that she needs Santana and she hates it even more that she _wants_ her. the girl who pushed her buttons, ruined her, and built her back up again.

God, she really was a piece of work these days.

Things continue on like that for a few more weeks. Quinn spends less and less time at home and more and more time in Santana's room, on her back and anywhere else that Santana wants her.

It's thrilling in a way that Santana's always been and it makes Quinn wonder if she only just needed a bit of spice in her life, if that was all that she was missing.

Anyway, it continues on like that and if Quinn was the type of girl who liked keeping track of anniversaries, she'd tell Santana that they were quickly approaching their three month anniversary.

Okay, so she's totally that girl, whatever. Sue her.

They're past the stage of their relationship where Quinn constantly feels the need to flee and Santana feels the need to corner her in every empty room and kiss her. Well, Santana still did that, but whatever.

The point is that Quinn feels like things are getting serious and it's bad because now that she feels like that, there's this part of her that just wants to constantly claim what she thinks is hers. It eats away at her and she tries to push it down because they're three weeks away from graduation and Quinn won't have to hide anymore.

She tries and she fails.

Quinn blames it on never properly learning how to share. She blames it on never knowing how to love things endlessly and without control. She blames it on Brittany and Santana and how they fucking _smile_ at each other like they're about to fuck. She blames it on hormones and the fact that Brittany is at Santana's locker, her hand running from Santana's shoulder down to her elbow and back again.

She blames it on seeing _red_.

Before she knows what she's really doing, her shoulder is ramming into Brittany's and causing the dancer to fall forward, her head hitting a locker. Quinn feels slightly guilty when Brittany looks up confused, but mostly she just feels entitled.

She grabs Santana's hand, shooting a 'sorry' over her shoulder as she pulled Santana into an empty classroom.

"What the fuck, Q?" Santana yelled as she yanked her hand away from Quinn.

Quinn narrows her eyes, her glare perfect and intimidating. "You are _mine_ , okay?"

Santana softened at the sight of Quinn's blatant jealousy. "Quinn, this side of you is really fucking hot, okay? But you can't go ramming Brittany into lockers just because we're talking."

"Touching." Quinn corrected, her hands sliding around Santana's cheerio clad waist.

Santana rolled her eyes, ignoring Quinn's hands as they slipped underneath her cheerleading top. "Whatever. You can't just do that, okay? God, I knew you were a jealous little thing but I never thought you'd be that intense."

Quinn shrugged, not sorry for what she did. Okay, a little sorry. Except not really. "I've never really been good at loving things." She leaned in to kiss Santana before freezing, her eyes widening in horror. Her cast picks that time to itch and Quinn thinks that it might be in sync with whenever she gets nervous.

Santana rolls her eyes and it's not the response that Quinn wanted, but it could have been worse. Santana wraps her arms around Quinn's neck, her nose nuzzling against Quinn's. "You're such an idiot, Quinn." Santana says affectionately. "I love you, too."

Quinn briefly thinks about Brittany and how she owes her an apology. She kind-of does. Maybe. Probably. Oh, whatever.

They kiss then and it works, just like always, because the sun is shining and kids are laughing in the hallways, today was a half day, and even Sue Sylvester looked happy. Most of all, Quinn finally didn't feel that alone anymore.


End file.
